What will people think?
by Kayleigh-talitha
Summary: What happens to Derrick after the end of the movie? How will he cope? Read and find out. Short ficlets *chapter 2 up*
1. Default Chapter

Author's note: I was so glad to see somebody started Gossip fan fiction stories that I had to write one as well. I loved the movie, it was an ending you would never have expected and I do like dramas like that. To get one thing straight, I don't think Rapists need to avoid the penalty they deserve, like Derrick did in the movie, but I suppose it's because James played him so sensitive and all, that Derrick Webb managed to get my sympathy. So I changed it all a bit, to make him seem like a rapist, but in the end it didn't went like that entirely. I hope you will like it and feedback is really appreciated.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Gossip, not the characters or their surroundings. This story is written for entertainment only and is not used to make profit.  
  
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Derrick watched as his two friends left the building, still laughing, trying to keep up appearance, it only worked as long as they were there. He was alone now; silence greeting him in the big loft, his shoulders sagged. What would the others think? Good question and he already knew the answer. They would think the same as those years back in high school, scum, rapist, not even enough to glare at. He would be stared at, shouted at and ignored, just like then. He had paid for it, for what he had done, he lost his parents because of it, his family and his friends. And now he was paying again, it would never leave him alone, where he would go; it would always haunt him, forever. He stood up, his legs feeling heavy, going straight for the liquor, or what was left of it. Good, whiskey, as long as it was strong, and enough to numb his mind for now, he didn't mind. His place was trashed but he couldn't care less. He had enough in his trust fond to replace those things. Like he needed them, like he needed those things. Why bothering to grab a glass, he was planning on drinking the entire bottle and hopefully wake next year or so. It tasted like shit, not that it needed to taste at all, his prime goal was to get drunk and forget.  
  
He woke in the middle of the night, a pounding headache already settling in, but he was probably still drunk. It took him a minute or two to realise what had woken him, shattered glass and in the midst a brick. So it had started already, it would always start with the broken window, funny enough he didn't care as the freezing wind made it's way in. The whiskey was keeping him warm. He laughed, a strange hoarse sound, vibrating through the apartment. All of this because of a gossip, and he had fallen for it big time, right in his own trap without even realising something was going on, somebody had been planning to destroy his life carefully and had used Naomi Preston to do it. God, he hated that bitch, twice she destroyed him, and was having the time of her life with it. He had to admit, rape wasn't the nicest thing to do, but she made him do it, she said she wanted to go further and in the end she didn't. By that time it was too late and now he was labelled rapist. The laughing stopped, as he just fell to the ground, crying now, it sounded almost inhuman as he just cried out his loss.  
  
He just stared at the tiles in his bathroom, as he was seated next to the toilet, emptying the content of his stomach from time to time. He had a killer headache and the worst hangover ever. He felt like shit, and the worst part was, there was no Jones to help him settle into bed. He had gotten used to the company of his friends, and now, when he needed one, he realised what he had lost. "Screw them, I don't need them," he muttered to the wall, though even the pink paint seemed to disagree on that. "I don't need anybody; I'm capable of being alone." Or so he hoped. He would clean out his locker tomorrow, though he already dreaded that moment. Like hell was he going back to that school, maybe it was time to find him another place to life, maybe even another country. Some place where they never heard of that Naomi or Jones, or the whole freaking bunch of people who had betrayed him like that. He would go to school tomorrow, and face them all, as soon as his stomach would settle that was.  
  
tbc 


	2. Chapter two

They stared, they always stared. He had been ignoring it for the most part, because in the end, it was his own fault. He had raped Naomi, and now he was going to pay for it after all those years. He would just clean out his locker and go.  
  
"Fucking rapist," somebody dared to shout, but Derrick didn't look up, he stared to the ground and hoped he wouldn't bump into anybody on the way to the lockers. Eyes were burning on his back, while hushed whispers erupted when he walked past them. Another five meters and I'm there, he thought, walking stiffly to the locker area.  
  
"Where do you think you're going, freak?"  
  
A strong arm blocked his path, when he was so close to his locker, and he was forced to look upon the guy standing before him. A big blond muscled quarterback, named Chat if Derrick remembered correct.  
  
"I need to get my stuff." He replied, his voice unwavering as he tried to push past Chat, only to be pushed roughly against the lockers behind him. Two friends were behind him. Okay, so this was not going as well as he had wanted to.  
  
"You need to teach a lesson, maybe two," one chuckled, giving him a leering smile before a fist connected with his stomach. Breath was knocked out of him, as another fist collided with his temple, making him see stars. After that is all happened fast, as the three boys got really into their 'lesson,' punches and kicks raining down on him. The entire school was probably watching, Derrick realised, but nobody even helped, and he didn't try to protect himself, it was going to be over with soon.  
  
"That's enough!" A voice called out, probably the principle, or one of the teachers. The beating stopped, and he found out he couldn't open his eyes, too painful. Fuck, he would give anything to just be unconscious, or a bottle of booze to at least not feel anything. Somebody called for an ambulance, but that was pretty far away, it all seemed like a blur. Arms pulled him up from the cold stone floor, saying something but he couldn't make out the words. It had been a very bad choice to come here, he realised, as he finally welcome the darkness. 


End file.
